glassy eyes, hazy afternoons- Eddie Munson x Reader

4.0

Autumn in Hawkins looked straight out of the beautiful beginnings of a scary movie—the turning leaves of the maple trees standing out through the light fog that spread through the town like a blanket.

Windows were blurred with humidity and had condensation running down the panes like tears. When Y/n woke up that morning, she could feel the cool damp air clinging to her skin, and her nose was red with a chill.

Her eyes darted over to the window next to her bed, realizing she had left it open a few inches over night. The window sill was wet with morning dew, as was her bottle green glass ashtray.

Before shoving the window closed, she dumped the remnants of her nightly smoke outside into the flower bed.

She dusted off her hands and stood up from her bed, thinking about her plans for her lazy Saturday morning. Y/n searched for her coziest sweater and sweat pants, completed with some warm wool socks.

The aroma of eggs and toast wafted through the house. Johnny worked most Saturdays since they'd been in Hawkins, having to put their regular Saturday morning breakfasts on hold. It hadn't felt right to carry the tradition without Sam's presence, anyway.

Y/n shuffled down the hallway, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she made her way to the eat-in kitchen.

"Hey pops," she said before looking to the stove where she expected to see her dad in his favorite slippers and plaid pajamas, but the figure holding the skillet wasn't her father.

"Hey there, kiddo!" Sam imitated their fathers gravely morning voice from the years of smoking cigarettes.

"SAMMY!" She shouted in surprise, now fully awake. Y/n dashed over to his open arms to give him a tight squeeze. Sam's chest shook with laughter at his sisters excitement.

"Miss me?" He quipped, knowing full well how much his sister had missed him, because he missed her just as much.

"Not a bit." She said with a smile as she pulled away to look him in the eye.

Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes, turning back to the stove to flip an egg over easy—the way their dad likes them.

Y/n leaned on the counter next to Sam to swipe some toast from the stacked plate, then moved to the fridge for some butter and orange juice.

"When did you get here??" She asked looking over the top of the fridge door. Sam moved their plates to the table and plopped down in the creaky chair.

"Late last night, the old man doesn't even know I'm here yet." Sam said, rubbing his hands together like a villain with an evil plan at work. Y/n chuckled, setting down the butter dish and carton then grabbed some silverware and glasses for everyone.

They easily fell back in routine together, as if they never parted. Back in the day when Sam was 7 and y/n was 5, people confused them for twins more often than not, because you rarely saw one without the other.

Sam had kept up with weekly phone calls back home while he was away, and even wrote twice, but of course it wasn't the same.

Every Wednesday evening since Sam had been away, Johnny and Y/n would sit on the sofa with the phone in between them to talk to Sam for an hour or so. Sam would tell them about the interesting things he'd learned in class and the fun places to eat and "socialize"

Of course the weekly phone calls were nice, but with their dad being on the phone, Sam never got to tell her the real juicy stuff about college he'd been dying to experience.

It was no secret that Sam was wild, he was the life of almost every party, even Johnny knew his son was a little feral. But something else everyone knew about Sam was that he was genuinely a good boy through and through.